Something's Gone Horribly Wrong
by ScarperTheTheif9
Summary: Temari and her brothers were just attending the meeting to get Gaara the position of Kazekage. They did not expect to run into a trigger-happy luteniant and her dog, or an ego-crazy Colnel, or a shrimp and his brother. Who the HELL are these people?


"Oh, Corey Taylor. If only I had your life. Then, I could just HIRE someone to go attend this flippin' political meeting crap." I mused out loud to my Slipknot poster. I had seriously been debating for a while if I should skip the meeting, but then I reminded myself that this wasn't middle school anymore. I would get a lot more that just expulsion if I screwed this one up. This meeting was very important. It would decide if my youngest brother, Gaara, would be granted the position of Kazekage of Sunagakure or not. Personally, I had absolutley no idea exactly why they had not seriously considered him for the position before. I guess there had been the slightly problamatic issue of him being kind of a phsycopath and all, but that had been a while ago, almost three years now! it was the past, and the past had to be left behind. I lost count of how many times Konkorou and I spoke for his case. _Let him be the Kazekage, _we said. _He's the best guy for the job! He'll protect this country with his life! _We said. But NOOOOO! Those dirty bunch of sinile geezers don't even friggin' _consider_ him for the position.

Douchebags.

Now, though, all that was about to change. I smiled slightly as I perpared myself for the meeting. I died a little inside each time I was forced to be all respectful to those jerkoffs, but I knew it was finnaly paying off. I exited my room-which was completly covered in metal band posters that you could hardly see the bare wall- and stepped into the hall, where the young post-sadist himself sat on the couch waiting for me. My little brother Gaara had changed considerably in the past three years after mr. McOrangejumpsuit did that therapy jutsu-thingie on him. Seriously, that kid should start charging for counseling sessions! Gaara nodded at me, silent as ever from where he was perched. He was dressed more or less the same as ussual, his clothes a bit cleaner perhaps. He had his gourd hanging from his back, and he fiddled a bit with the sash that held it in place. "You nervous?" I asked him. Gaara nodded.

It was a laughable thought. My brother, feared deamon of the sand and former phsyco, nervous. I reflected once again on how great the change was. Three years ago, he would not have hesitated to kill me merely for suggesting it. Now, he simply nodded and offered to prepare breakfast. Gaara ussually took the job of cooking around our house. I coulden't tell a teaspoon from a spatula. I think the last time I cooked, I unwittingly created a new form of explosive radiation. Not exactly edible, I suppose.

"Don't be too worried, Gaara. I'm sure you'll make it. If not, I can beat the infidels into submission." I said cheerily, examining my fan for any dents or scratches. Violince is fun.

Gaara sighed and continued with his work. The image of him in an apron was forcing me to cover my mouth and try not to crack up. "Lemme go get Kankorou." I said, trying my best to keep a straight face as I enterd the room of my other brother.

Immideatly, I narrowly missed steeping on a screw. Puppet appendages, peices of wood, and other miscilanious harware objects littlered the floor. Undoubtedly he had been making a few adjustments to Crow again. That or he was jerking off the night before. You could never really tell with him. The puppeteer himself was lounging in bed with the sheets twisted around him. His brown hair, which was untidy at the best of times, was pretty much a giant rats' nest in the mornings. Dirty laundry lay in a heaping pile at the foor of his bed.

"Yo, Kankorou. Up. Now."

A grunt was the only response.

"Idiot, it's the meeting! Gaara needs us for support, now up!'

Kankorou shifted slightly but did not rise.

"YOU INIBRIATE, GET UP NOW OR I WILL BITCH-SLAP YOU!" I shouted. When in doubt, yell. And not as a last resort. I never make empty threats, something both of my brothers knew _very well._

The eldest of my two brothers bolted upright. "Okay, okay, I'm getting up! See? This is me, getting up!" Kankorou creid in a shrill, panicked voice. I smirked smugly and left to let him change in privacy.

I enterd the kitchen once again to find that two bowls have been set on the table, one for Kankorou, and one for me. I picked up a pair of chopsticks and prepared to chow down when I noticed that Gaara had not gotten any for himslef. "Not hungry?" I aksed.

Gaara nodded again.

"Is it the.." I deftly tapped my finger to the side of my head to indicate Shukaku, the evil deamon who possesed my brother.

Slowly, Gaara nodded an affermitive. "He's been loud talking again." He said in his deep, gravely voice that always sounded like he was being strangled. He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. I knew that headaches were one of the side affects of the deamon"s phsycotic rambilings and it frankly pissed me off. I dispised seeing either of my brothers in pain. With Gaara, it epecially got me ticked because I knew that I could do nothing about it.

"Let me know if there's anything you need, 'kay, baby brother?" I said, going all over-protective big sister on him again.

Gaara smiled slightly and nodded. "Thank you, Temari." He replied. I still had to get used to that smile of his. It made him look like he was about to kill someone.

It was just so damn _cute! _

I finished my breakfast just as Kankorou hurried in, looking rushed. His cat-hood hung haphaserdly off one side of his head. I collected more proof that he was devoid of all common sense as I noted that he was dressed completly in black. Even though we live in a freaking dessert. Where it's one hundered degrees year-round. And if you pour any water on the ground outside, it'll evaporate right in front of your eyes. Genius, Kankorou. Truly genius.

"Have either of you nimrods seen my kabukki paint? I think I lost it." He said.

"How the hell should I know where your makeup is, you childhood reject?" I grumbled in reply at a clearly offended Kankorou.

"It isn't makeup, technecly it's _war paint!_" He sniffed. Then, he ran off into the batroom to see if he could find it there.

I rolled my eyes and waited for my brother to reemerge from the bathroom. Seriously, the child is SIXTEEN. You would have thought he would have dropped the face-paint by now. To which I say, you have clearly not met my brother. He is as stubborn as a mule. All three of us are. I swear, it's genetic.

Kankorou finnaly came out of the bathroom-I swear, he takes longee than _me_- and we prepared to enter the meeting. LIKE BOSSES.

Sadly, however, absolutly nothing went as planned. Even when we first entered the meeting room it was perfectly clear...

..._Something had gone horribly wrong..._

**A/N: Yay, it's finnaly up! I had this one running though my head for weeks before I finnaly found time to type it up. My name's Scarperthetheif9 and this is my first story on the site. Sorry it's such a cliffhanger, but I still gotta draft and edit the next chaphter, which should be up sometime next week. Review, please! Tell me what you think! I love your opinions, guys! Thanks!**


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